Chapter Twelve
A firm press of heat bore down on Eve’s tummy, making everything southward turn to jelly. Only two men had ever aroused her
like this. Madden. And the Madden in her imagination. The one she’d been sleeping with for years. But this marriage could
only be temporary, so her exclusive attraction to Madden wasn’t a good thing. “I don’t know, Mad. Hooking up when we’re planning
a divorce in six months could get messy.”
“I’ve wanted you in bed for years and you wanted me too. Isn’t that right?”
Still getting used to voicing her feelings for him out loud, it took her a moment to hum an affirmation.
That hum was enough to make his chest rise and dip dramatically. “And we haven’t given in, because your best friend fancied
herself in love with me.”
“Uh-huh.”
“That didn’t stop the wanting, though, Eve. Didn’t stop me dreaming about what you’d feel like underneath me. For years. We’re
already messy,” he breathed against her mouth. “What’s a little more?”
“You have a point,” she managed, her voice threadbare.
Eve’s hands rose of their own accord, slowly, framing the sides of his face.
His breath held while she thumbed the bristle of his jaw, the sculpted curve of his bottom lip.
It was so, so silent and still in the house, impossibly quiet, except for the accelerated rapping of their hearts.
He was letting her take the lead, letting her decide when the kiss finally happened, after a millennium of wondering what it would be like, but his tether wasn’t a long one, made obvious by the hands that fisted in the hips of her jeans, sliding her to the end of the couch arm, into the safe haven of his well-muscled body, so that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. To maintain the touch of their lips.
“Put me out of my misery, Eve.” His voice shook.
“I’m getting there,” she whispered, pitching her head slowly to the right, memorizing the spellbound look in his eyes before
closing her own, focusing on touch. On the warm restraint of his breath bathing her mouth. The way his hair wrapped itself
around her fingers as if welcoming her home. The power of him, waiting there, waiting to be tapped.
And finally, she did.
She teased open his lips with her own, stroking her tongue inside. Just once.
Madden released a hoarse sound, but he waited for the next move, his grip tight, so tight, on the denim covering her hips.
She licked into him again, two more times, nearly moaning over the low, hot pulse between her thighs, that drugging tug of
muscle cutting her patience in half like a machete.
“Madden,” she managed, before going deep with the next play of her tongue, their breaths escaping like the hiss of a punctured tire, her fingers twisting in his hair to pull him down—and he went, a man at the end of his rope, yanking her to the very, very end of the couch arm, lurching closer to loom above Eve while their mouths feasted, his thighs bracketing her knees, his stance making her feel dainty and trapped in the most delicious way.
And speaking of delicious, Madden was the definition of that word.
He kissed like he was determined to feed her, like he could abolish her hunger with slick, carnal rides of his mouth over hers, the heat of his thick body reaching through her clothes, sensitizing, eliciting a whimper from her mouth. Her first ever whimper?
“Eve.” He tilted her head back and raked his open mouth up her jaw. “Christ. Worth the wait doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
They raged back into the kiss, but the storm was building to a category five now. Sirens were going off in the back of Eve’s
mind, his forearm gathering her hips closer to his own, angling them while he claimed ownership of her mouth from above with
hungry pants, and lord, oh lord, her thighs were so close to dropping open and inviting him to rub himself in the place where
she got wetter by the second.
This was their first kiss, though.
Were they moving too fast or was this combustion inevitable?
“Madden,” she said, struggling to breathe.
“What do you need, Eve?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you?” He nipped at her mouth and she could feel the knowledge in his touch. Could see the memory of her dancing topless
right there in his eyes. “Say the word and I’ll take you to the backyard. I’ll strip you naked and get started fucking the
last four years out of my system. There’s no chance anyone will see us.” He fisted her hair, drawing it to one side so he
could suck and bite the skin of her neck. “But someone might hear you begging me for more, though. Someone will know my gorgeous
girl took her panties off to allow me a ride.”
That . . . taunt? Promise? Dip into her psyche?
It made splotches of light bloom on the insides of her eyelids, the walls of her sex squeezing and releasing rhythmically, searching for him, but her hands moved first, ripping his T-shirt upward, off and over his head, revealing that sturdy chest with the cross tattoo in the center of his pecs.
A smattering of hair. The ripest muscles she’d ever laid eyes on in real life.
A five-inch-long scar running down the left side of his abdomen.
Her own stomach flipped over in response.
“You want the possibility of being seen, being caught, watched, I’ll give you that. You trust me to do that?”
Trust didn’t come easy for Eve, if at all, but she trusted Madden with most things. With this. Exploring the part of her she’d
denied satisfaction for a long time. And she didn’t really have a choice but to nod, tilt her head back, and let him suck
marks onto her neck and throat, because all her fantasies had been with him.
“Out back, then?” he growled.
“I think so, yes.”
“You think so.” His jaw flexed. “If this is moving too fast, love . . .”
She didn’t have a single ounce of doubt that he could handle the delay of gratification like a man. “It’s moving very fast.”
“God, I know. Okay.” Madden pulled back, panting, his strong hands cradling her head. In her periphery, Eve could see the
extended zipper of his jeans, the outrageous curve of his length straining inside the denim. How he could be so worked up
and yet speak to her so gently was this man in a nutshell. A quiet storm. “Let’s just take a deep breath here.” His chest
puffed up and down. “We’re not about to rush this.”
What followed was a moment very different from the urgency and madness of the kiss. A quiet calming of pulses and haywire breaths. A seeking of comfort. Madden kissed a path across Eve’s hairline, down her cheek, before sipping at her mouth.
“I can give you what you want. I wanted to prove that.” His thumb traced her jawline. “Have I?”
Her head nodded by itself. “Yes.”
A low sound of pride in his chest. “We’re settled, then?”
Dang, her lips were swollen. “Friends with fulfillment.”
“Uh-huh.” He dropped his forehead against hers, his energy growing a little frustrated. Or anxious, maybe. “I have to be back
in New York tomorrow morning.” His eyes burned with promise. “But I’ll be back in three days to marry you.”
Holy shit, this was happening. Eve looked at him, then asked, “Why does that irritate you?”
Blue eyes searched hers. He replied, “It’s only the three days that irritates me. I’m afraid you’ll change your mind.”
“I don’t plan on it.”
The tick in his jaw said he wasn’t reassured in the slightest. And wow, the impulse to be late opening the club, to stay and
do whatever she could to ease his mind, startled Eve. She couldn’t fall into the trap of making this relationship too . . .
romantic. Too sweet.
That wasn’t her.
And that kind of starry-eyed romance wasn’t in the cards for them.
“Guess you’ll just have to wonder,” she murmured with a smile she hoped was mysterious, sliding out from beneath his shirtless
body. “See you soon, Madden.”
As soon as her feet touched the ground and she stood, her liquefied knees gave out.
Madden caught her before she could drop like a stone, his chuckle ruffling the hair at the crown of her head. “Consider me reassured.”
Ducking her head so he wouldn’t see her blush, she speed walked for the front door. “My feet were asleep.”
“Whatever you say, love.”
Eve was halfway to the club before she realized she was smiling.